


Dragon Age: Origins "Re-Write" Project

by Alisienna



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4621287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisienna/pseuds/Alisienna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elissa Laryn Cousland must quash her own desires for vengeance and justice for her family in order to fulfill her duty to the Grey Wardens, and keep her father's last words to "make her mark upon the world."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Road to Ostagar

**Author's Note:**

> A "re-write" I am doing of Dragon Age: Origins featuring my canon Warden, a female Cousland warrior. My goal is to tell her particular story, and pad out some of the content I personally missed being in the canon game. Comments welcome and appreciated!

Elissa Laryn Cousland shook her head in a vain attempt to clear the rain out of her eyes. The downpour combined with the wind chilled her to the bone with each blast. But no matter how hard the wind blew, or how cold the rain was, the pain from the cold did not hold a candle to the pain in her heart.

Warden Duncan walked beside her on the path. His shoulder bumped hers occasionally, and the path was hard to see in the dim light that made it through the thick cover of branches over their heads. Duncan’s silence while they walked was comfortable, neither assuming nor awkward. He left her well enough alone, unable to heal the hurt in Elissa’s heart.

His silence was the final layer, combining with the closeness of the trees and the dimness and the pain in Elissa’s heart into an amalgam of emptiness, loneliness. It suffocated her, even though she found she could still breathe. It shrouded her, even though she could still hear the birds trilling in the branches over her head and she could still feel the patter of the rain against her exposed skin. She scratched vainly at an itch underneath the joint in her shoulder-plate, the layers of metal and fabric preventing her from removing the three days’ worth of grime that coated her skin.

The sum of these experiences was altogether new for Elissa. Loving parents and lack of want for material needs had not prepared her for orphan-hood and homelessness.

The thought of her family – her parents murdered, her brother unreachable – cut through the smothering numbness like a knife, a white hot edge of fresh pain that nearly tore a sob from Elissa’s throat. A small, choked cry escaped her throat unbidden. She glanced furtively at the solemn Warden at her side, but he gave no sign of having heard.  

Elissa swallowed heavily, using the effort to push her sorrow down deep, hidden where she wouldn’t have to find it again. Not until she was ready. She straightened her shoulders, shook her head again, and then used her fingers to push her stringy wet hair out of her face. Her father had always made a face when he was dealing with difficult courtiers, a mask that communicated both sternness and authority but little else. Elissa focused on copying that mask on her own features. Her steps grew more firm, and she pulled a little ahead of Duncan on the path.

Elissa tried to see a glimpse of the sky through the branches twined over their heads. She blinked at raindrops that splashed in her eyes, the raised one hand to shield them. There was no patch of light, blue or grey, to be seen in the canopy. This far into the Wilds – the land south of her family’s holdings that was known to be the most dangerous area of Ferelden – the sky was seldom seen. The Chasind made their home here, and even as far as Highever rumors flew of apostate mages living in shacks in the wilderness. The path they followed was safer for its size, away from the main road and the danger of highwaymen and thieves. Though obviously armed and obviously warriors, two people traveling alone on the main road made too tempting a target for such unscrupulous characters.

Elissa sighed, pushing yet more wet off her face. The dreariness of the cold wetness seemed endless. Duncan remained stoic, unaffected by the adverse conditions. He stopped suddenly, and Elissa matched him. She turned her head to look at him, reading alarm in his expression and the tension in his body, absent a moment before. Elissa’s right hand went to the hilt of her great sword by reflex, tension turning her knuckles white. Elissa had heard no sound, her ears unused to cutting through the noise of forest and rain to seek out signs of danger.

They stood perfectly still for a few moments, Duncan listening, and Elissa watching. Her hand began to ache where it gripped her sword. Finally, Duncan shook his head. “I apologize. It was nothing.”

Elissa’s fingers relaxed, and she sighed. Duncan gave her a wry look. “Do not worry, my lady,” he said. “You will have plenty of chances to fight once we reach the Ostagar encampment. The darkspawn are growing thicker.” He closed his eyes, concentrating on something, then continued. “We need to veer further south, or we will risk running into the horde.”

Elissa frowned. “How do you know that?”

“It is…an ability given to all Grey Wardens. To sense the presence of darkspawn.”

“But how?”

Duncan shook his head. “I cannot tell you that, not until you have fully joined the Order.” He looked up to the canopy of branches much as she had done a few moments before. “Come, we must move quickly to make the camp before nightfall.”

Elissa trotted to keep up with him as he set off at a faster pace than before. “So, how does one join the Wardens, exactly? I mean, I know you’ve recruited me – sort of – but you say I haven’t joined yet.”

“That I cannot tell you either. Not until we reach Ostagar.”

“Why? Is it secret?”

“Of a sort, yes.”

Elissa mused over that. There was little historical information recorded about the Order, beyond the barest details of their great deeds during the Blights. At their height, the Wardens had been an Order that garnered respect, even deference, even in the highest circles of society. Now, their numbers had dwindled, and with no Blights in recent memory to stop, the courtesy shown the Order was more a matter of tradition than actual respect. Additionally, the Wardens had no great historians of their own, so all the “facts” known about them were second-hand.

“Is it dangerous?” she asked. “Whatever you have to do to join?”

Duncan’s face was solemn. “Yes, and the life afterwards, even more so.”

Elissa was quiet for a moment. Then she ventured, “I am not sure I should follow through with it, then. My duty lies with my family. I might be the last Cousland, and I have to ensure the line continues.”

“I’m sorry, Lady Elissa, but you’ve already given your word.”

“I didn’t actually,” Elissa reminded him. “My father did, and I followed you out because I had no other choice. My home was burning.”

“Even still, your father’s oath now binds you. There is no turning back from your current path,” Duncan said. “Your family’s words, they are ‘Honor, Duty, Sacrifice’, are they not?”

Elissa’s expression grew stony. “Yes.”

“Then to uphold your family’s Honor, you must make good on your father’s word. Your Duty now becomes that of the Grey Wardens: to stop the Blights. And your sacrifice, among others, is the personal pursuit of the justice that is owed your family.”  

“That is utter bullshit,” Elissa spat. “You have no right to say anything like that to me.”

Duncan stopped walking and turned to look her square in the eye. “Elissa, I have suffered loss as well. Right now, you are looking to the immediate future, to what you think will ease your pain. Vengeance, however well-deserved, will not help you. The purpose the Wardens offer will.”

Elissa met his gaze, fire still flashing behind her deep blue eyes. Duncan stared back at her and remained silent. What she saw in his eyes reflected the pain she had just attempted to bury in her own heart.

The longer they stared at one another, the more and more flushed Elissa’s cheeks became. She dropped her gaze, unable to bear looking at the rawness in his eyes any longer.  

Duncan’s hand squeezed her shoulder once, lightly. “I know it hurts. It will always hurt. But make your parents’ sacrifice worth something, by saving the lives of other parents, other children. The Blights threaten all of us. You have a chance to make a difference.”

“To make my mark upon the world,” Elissa repeated her father’s dying words, her voice leaden with grief.

“Yes, my lady,” Duncan agreed. He removed his hand from her shoulder and continued on down the path. Elissa followed, wiping silent tears off her cheeks. The rain had stopped.


	2. In the Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elissa arrives at Ostagar, and must decide what to do and how to protect herself as she awaits further instructions from Warden Duncan. She meets some interesting people during her wait, including the handsome young warden, Alistair.

Ostagar turned out to be a military camp that had smashed itself around the remains of a tumbled-down fortress. The main bulk of the army had made their camp outside the ruined walls, drab brown tents standing in neat rows covering the fields all the way up to the tree lines. Inside the ruins, however, was a different story. Here, the king and his retinue had divided the various spaces of the old castle amongst themselves. The main bailey contained the king’s camp, the quartermaster’s armory, and what appeared to be a special area set aside for the mage regiment. At the back of the bailey a ramp led up to another level of the ruins containing an open-air chapel and infirmary. Throughout the ruins, the colorful tents clashed with grey, weather-beaten stone, giving the whole place a rather eclectic look.

Elissa wandered around the camp, lost in the newness of the sights and smells and bustle of the army and the camp followers.  As she passed one tent with garish purple-and-yellow striping on the canvas, her nose caught the scents of food being prepared inside. Her stomach growled in reaction to the smell, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten a full meal in days. Venturing underneath the door flap earned her a bowl of a hearty vegetable and beef stew, along with a hunk of brown bread and a large wooden cup. Elissa followed the directions the kitchen servant had given her and filled her cup with clean, fresh rainwater that had been collected in barrels for the camp’s use.

She found a relatively quiet spot in the camp and settled down on a bench. The stew was delicious. Elissa soaked up the last of the juices in her bowl with the hunk of bread and chewed as she watched the flurry of activity around her. The people around her scurried towards their various destinations, all running some errand that seemed important enough to prevent the end of modern civilization. Their movements were quick, but not hurried, not fearful; their strides on the whole were steady and purposeful.  People’s expressions were serious but relaxed, and laughter sounded out every once in a while above the general chatter.

Elissa chewed her bread slowly, considering. Her father and brother had always made military service seem somewhat dour, another duty that they took on in order to support the king and keep their family safe but not one they enjoyed. The King had not seemed at all concerned about fighting darkspawn soon when he had spoken with Elissa earlier, either.

“You look rather serious,” a man said, jolting Elissa out of her reverie. She looked up to see a man standing before her. He was the living embodiment of mediocrity: medium build, with medium brown hair trimmed close to his head, and eyes that were neither blue nor green. He had features that were not ugly, but not particularly handsome either, and was wearing armor of no particular make or quality.

Elissa attempted a small smile. “Just eating my supper,” she replied.

The man held his own bowl of stew and grinned in newfound comradery. He gestured toward the bench. “May I?”

Elissa shrugged, and he sat down beside her. The man began tucking into his food with gusto, his appetite the first thing about him that did not appear mediocre. Elissa watched him with bemusement.

He paused between spoonfuls long enough to take a breath. “Name’s Jory, by the way,” he said, as if introductions were secondary to satisfying the beast that resided in his midsection.

“Elissa,” she replied, leaving off her family name at the last minute.

“Nice to meet you,” Jory mumbled out automatically, his mouth full. He swallowed noisily. “So, where’d you come from?”

“North of here,” Elissa said, intentionally vague. “A small freehold in Amaranthine.”

“Oh, so you must be the one that Duncan mentioned! He said he’d brought a girl from the north back with him!” Jory’s smile was wide. “I’m also to be recruited. I’m from Redcliffe. It’s a great honor to be chosen for the Wardens. Left my wife there, and she with child too!”

He kept on like that for a few minutes, chattering about his wife and his favorite meals. Elissa half-listened, nodding at what she hoped were appropriate times.

“So, how did you get picked for the Grey Wardens?” Jory asked. He stopped speaking, and it took Elissa a moment to realize he was waiting for her answer.

“Oh…um, Duncan asked the townsfolk who would be good for it. My name came up, and he was impressed with my skills, I guess.” Elissa shrugged. “I didn’t realize it was special.”

Jory nodded sagely. “Oh yes, a very great honor. The Grey Wardens are heroes. They only accept the best. You must be very good with…” He looked at her back and then frowned in confusion. “You carry a great sword and a shorter blade? And a shield?”

Elissa felt her cheeks redden. “Oh, well, I’ve trained with both, and my family wanted to see me off well-kitted.”

“Your shield, though…that’s Highever’s heraldry isn’t it? But you said you were from Amaranthine?” Jory’s brow was furrowed in total bewilderment now.

“Oh well, my parents picked it up second-hand. We’re not wealthy,” Elissa said hurriedly. She rose from the bench, bowl and cup in hand. “Well, nice to meet you, but I’ve got to go take care of some things.”

She walked away before Jory could answer. Elissa grimaced. In a military camp where people would know her weapons and how they were used, carrying a shield with a great sword was noticeable for its absurd impracticality.

Elissa chewed her lip, looking around her. Spying the quartermaster’s tent, she turned toward it, again attempting to school her face into her father’s court mask. What she had to do next would require all the emotional armor she could muster.

****

“Fifty silver?” Elissa exclaimed. “This shield was used in the war against Orlais! It protected King Maric himself! Surely you can do better than that?”

The quartermaster grunted. “Even if what you said is true, this is a military camp, girl. No one who’s gonna buy this off me is gonna care if it was polished with King Maric’s own piss. It’s a shield. It blocks things. That’s worth fifty silver to me.”

Elissa sighed in frustration, and then nodded. The quartermaster counted out fifty silver on the counter, then held out his hand for the shield. Elissa handed it over, giving it one last look as she did.

Elissa pocketed the money and left the quartermaster’s tent, blinking in the bright afternoon sunlight. She raised one trembling hand to swipe a tear from underneath her eye, then resumed her masked expression. As she left the tent, Elissa heard raised voices coming from a clearing nearby.

“I am warning you, Templar, I will not be harassed in this manner!” a male voice, taught with irritation, echoed across the clearing outside the quartermaster’s tent. The long, heavy robes – in a most garish shade of orange and the sneer he put on the word “templar” marked him as a mage. Elissa stared in fascination.

“Yes,” another male voice drawled, drawing out the word. “ _I_ was harassing _you_ by delivering a message.” The recipient of the mage’s ire was a tall, lanky young man wearing simple armor. He had short blond hair that stuck up in places, and his posture managed to communicate utter contempt and quiet amusement all at once. Elissa stepped a little closer to listen.

“Tell the Revered Mother that the mages are not tools to be summoned at her beck and call, no matter what the Chantry dictates!” The mage sputtered, his tanned face ruddy with growing anger.

“Tell her yourself,” the blond man replied, examining his fingernails. “I’m done playing messenger boy today.”

The mage’s face grew even redder, and he stalked away, nearly running Elissa over in the process. He continued on his way without a word of apology.

“Oooh, sorry about him,” the blond man said as he stepped over to her. He put out a hand to steady her while she regained her balance.

“Friend of yours?” Elissa asked.

The man grinned. “Oh, sure, a great friend. I was just about to name one of my children after him, in fact.”

“Oh?”

The grin widened. “Yeah, the grumpy one.”

Elissa laughed.

“I’m Alistair, by the way,” the man said.

“Oh!” Elissa exclaimed. “I was supposed to find you!”

“You must be the new recruit Duncan brought then?” Alistair asked. At Elissa’s nod, he continued. “You’ll have to forgive me. Duncan did write to tell me you were coming with him, but I can’t recall your name?”

“Elissa,” she replied, after a moment of hesitation.

“Right! That was it,” Alistair said. Relief washed over Elissa when he didn’t ask for her family name.

“So, what are we supposed to be doing? Duncan mentioned some kind of ritual?” she asked, taking a step back from him.

Alistair sobered immediately. “Have you ever fought a darkspawn?”

Elissa shook her head. “I haven’t. There aren’t many of them where I am from.”

“When I fought my first one, it was monstrous. Inhuman,” Alistair said, his voice low and serious.  “I still have nightmares.” He shook himself, then grinned again as he looked her over. “But you seem like you can take care of yourself!”

Elissa nodded. “I can. I have noticed you haven’t answered my question.”

Alistair winced. “Right. I didn’t, did I? Better let Duncan take care of that one.”

“Why?”

“He’s the senior Grey Warden. He should be the one to explain it, I think,” Alistair replied. “So, have you met any of the other recruits?”

“I think I might have. A man who called himself Jory?” Elissa said, putting emphasis on the name to make it a question.

Alistair nodded. “Bit simple, but he can fight well.”

“Yeah, I got that impression from him as well,” Elissa said.

“Not the rouge then?” Alistair asked. “Daveth, I think he said his name was? I’m terrible with names.”

Elissa smiled and shook her head.

“Okay. Well, they should be heading over to meet Duncan at the bonfire by the King’s tent. We should head over, too.” 


End file.
